“Okay, yeah,” she said. The fear in her eyes seemed to thaw. “Thank you—you’re amazing.”
Her words pierced his heart, filling it with a sweetness he didn’t deserve. The tenderness reminded him of when Kendall first told him she loved him, and how he didn’t have the courage to tell her the truth. He’d hurt her, which meant he was capable of hurting Brinton too, even if he wanted nothing more than to have her keep looking at him like the most capable man in the world.
He was a shell of man, reinforced by loneliness, lies, and secrets.
“No, Brinton, I’m not. Believe me,” he whispered.
She shook her head emphatically, batting away his insecurities. “You’re one of the good ones. And I’ve seen enough of the bad ones to know the difference.”
For her, he could become one of the good ones. He let the faint pricks of hope imbue him.This is the right moment.He took the opening.
Jamie could barely hear himself think over his heavy breaths. “Brinton, I’m a fraud.”
“You’re awhat?” Her inflection dulled to a croak, and her shoulders shook.
“I—my songs. Fuck, I don’t want you to hate me. Or anyone to hate me, but…Brinton, I have a ghostwriter. My father hired him years ago, and he’s written every song I’ve ever put out.”
His head slumped at the wilting weight of his omission. Wasn’t he supposed to feel better now?
Brinton stared at him for a long moment. Her expression was inscrutable. God, he needed her to saysomething.
“You lied to me? To everyone?”
“Yes,” he said, chest on fire. “My father told me it was the only way to build my legacy, and I believed him. There was a contract and I couldn’t get out. But now, I have a chance to start fresh. I need your help. I need you to break this story with your article so I can make music on my own, without my father. He wants me to sign a new contract tomorrow, so I need to know tonight if you’ll do it.”
She stumbled backward. A deep tremor overtook her entire body. He wanted to hug her, to steady her. To steady himself.
Her eyes, heavy with fatigue, cut to the water’s edge behind him.
“No,” she said, so quietly he barely heard her.
Jamie’s stomach bottomed out. “Maybe you need a beat after falling into the lake? But I got you. We’re good now.”
“No,” she repeated, a little steadier now.
“I just thought, at the Grammys—we had a moment.”
“A moment?”
“Yes,” he rushed out. “A moment. You asked me if being a musician—playing for thousands of fans and stuff—helpedme express myself more authentically? Well, you, Brinton…I want you to help me do that. I don’t wanna hold myself back anymore.”
“No, Jamie,” she repeated. “I’m sorry, but you want me to go up against your father, one of the most powerful men in the music business? Assuming you’re telling the truth?—”
“I am,” he insisted.
“He’ll want revenge,” she continued. “Everyone’s afraid of him and you know it. So whatever he’s planned for you, it’ll be even worse for me. I’ll be blackballed. I probably won’t get another writing gig.”
Finally, he got the nerve to reach for her shoulders, which stilled under his touch. “You said you wanted an angle no one has seen before. Brinton, this is it. We could work together. I could protect you?—”
“No, you can’t,” she said. She gently shrugged off his hands and buried her face in her own.
“It sounds like you can’t even protect yourself from him.” She dropped her hands. “For the record, I don’t hate you, Jamie. And I’m sure you did this because you felt like you had to. I know what that’s like. And I wish I were stronger, that I could pull this off for you. But I can’t take this risk. I desperately need a fool-proof win.”
His greatest fear had come true. Now he was completely out of options. But he couldn’t hate her either. He respected her too much for that. “I understand,” he said. “But would you be open to thinking about it? Please. If you decide otherwise, we can do the interview any way you want.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled. The sound cut him to the bone.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
